Evelyn Riddle: The Forgotten Chronicles- Book 6

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Evelyn pulled her scarf tighter around her neck, her breath visible in the frigid air as she walked arm-in-arm with Harry through the snow-covered streets of Hogsmeade. Both of them shuddered against the biting cold, their boots crunching against the thick layer of snow. Behind them, Ron and Hermione walked close together, Hermione's voice carrying on the sharp wind as she persisted in her line of questioning.

"For weeks you've been carrying around that book, practically sleeping with it, and you have no desire to find out who the Half-Blood Prince is?" Hermione asked, her tone sharp but tinged with exasperation.

Harry adjusted his glasses, glancing back at her with a defensive look. "I didn't say I wasn't curious. And, by the way, I don't sleep with it," he retorted, pulling his coat tighter around himself.

Ron let out a loud, sarcastic chortle, his breath puffing in the cold. "Yeah, right. You're always reading that bloody book. It's like being with Hermione, only less bossy."

Harry shot Ron a glare while Evelyn stifled a laugh, her lips curving into a smirk. Hermione, meanwhile, narrowed her eyes, clearly unimpressed by the comparison. "Well, I was curious," she said huffily, raising her chin, "so I went to—"

"The library," the other three said in unison, grinning as they anticipated her response.

Hermione rolled her eyes, ignoring them. "And?" Harry prompted eagerly, leaning closer as they walked.

"And... nothing," Hermione admitted with a frustrated sigh. "There's no reference to the Half-Blood Prince anywhere. Whoever they are, they're a complete mystery."

"Good. That settles it, then," Harry said breezily, as though the matter were resolved. He nodded confidently, though the whipping wind made it hard for him to maintain his composure.

"Hardly," Hermione muttered, clearly still dissatisfied, but she didn't press further.

The group lapsed into a comfortable silence, the sound of snow crunching underfoot and the occasional gust of wind filling the air. Evelyn let her mind wander, relishing the rare simplicity of the moment, when Harry suddenly slowed, his gaze narrowing at a figure up ahead.

"Is that... Slughorn?" Harry muttered, squinting as he spotted the rotund Potions Master waddling through the snow a few paces ahead of them.

Slughorn, dressed in his usual flamboyant attire, exuded his signature joviality despite the cold. He waved enthusiastically as he caught sight of Professor Flitwick approaching from the opposite direction. "Filius! Just the man I was hoping to see!" he called out, his voice booming.

Flitwick, startled by the sudden attention, stammered, "Emergency choir practice, I'm afraid, Horace." His tone made it clear that he had just invented the excuse on the spot, his small frame scuttling past as he avoided being cornered by the ever-gregarious Slughorn.

Harry watched the exchange with growing interest, his mind clearly at work. A mischievous glint appeared in his green eyes as he turned to his friends. "How about a Butterbeer?" he asked, his tone light but carrying an undertone of intrigue.

Evelyn, Hermione, and Ron exchanged curious glances, sensing there was more to Harry's suggestion than just warming up from the cold. Still, the idea of stepping into the cozy warmth of the Three Broomsticks was tempting enough. With a shrug and a collective agreement, they followed Harry, curious to see what he was up to.

The cozy warmth of the Three Broomsticks was a welcome contrast to the biting cold outside. Evelyn sighed in relief as she settled into a wooden chair near the roaring fire, her cheeks still flushed from the chill. She draped her coat over the back of the chair, her fingers tingling as they adjusted to the warmth.